


internal bleeding

by princelogical



Series: Sanders Sides Misc. Work [42]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princelogical/pseuds/princelogical
Summary: “Holy shit,” Virgil says. “Holy fucking shit.”“You owe Patton seventy-five cents for that one.”“How?” Virgil snaps.“Well, because Patton typically charges twenty-five cents per swear word. Therefore-”“Shut up,” Virgil hisses. “I meant, how on earth are you here? You’re dead.”or.If not for the bloody hole in Logan’s chest, Virgil might believe it is Logan standing in front of him, worn out from a long day of teaching college kids.





	internal bleeding

The smell of something burning greets Virgil as soon as he opens the door to his car and steps out onto Patton’s driveway. He gags reflexively, snatching up the collar of his hood to cover his nose with. He locks the car and darts to the front door, ringing the doorbell once he reaches the doorstep.

Not even ten seconds pass before the door is being yanked open and Patton is slamming into Virgil, wrapping his arms around his waist. Virgil smiles, trying to avoid breathing through his nose, and pats Patton on the back of his dirty blonde hair before the two draw apart.

“Are your bags in the car?” Patton asks.

Virgil nods. “I can get them later. What’s that smell?”

Patton scrunches up his nose and smiles sheepishly. “I had a little fight with the toaster.” He opens the door and Virgil follows him in. If Virgil thought the smell was bad outside, it is even worse inside. The little windows above Patton’s bright yellow couch are open, blinds crookedly tied up at the top. One fan is running in the middle of the room, clanking quietly.

“And you lost?” Virgil says dryly.

Patton laughs. “Yeah.” He walks into the kitchen and Virgil finds the toaster in question sitting on the table, the plastic casing melted, warped, and blackened, steam still drifting from the surface.

“Shit. You weren’t kidding.”

“Swear jar!” Patton scolds, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a half-gallon of vanilla creamer. Virgil rolls his eyes, but still digs a quarter from his pocket and tosses it into the little mason jar lying on the counter beside Patton’s coffee machine.

There’s a thin layer of dust gathering over the surface of the machine. Even the coffee tin has collected dust. Something about the sight makes Virgil’s heart twist, but he swallows it down to watch Patton wipe the coffee machine, the pot, and then the tin. Then he turns on the machine and turns to Virgil with a wide smile.

“I’ve missed you, kiddo!” Patton says.

“Missed you too,” Virgil says. He crosses his arms and looks around at the small kitchen. The counters are neat and tidy, only one glass sitting out beside the sink with milk dried at the bottom. The table has all four chairs surrounding it and a single vase sits in the middle, half-dead roses placed inside. The toaster is the only sign of life in this house- and a pathetic one, at that.

“How’s Roman?” Patton asks. Virgil looks back up and shrugs.

“Annoying, as usual.”

“Oh, c’mon! You wouldn’t have married him if he was that annoying.”

Virgil smirks. “Guess so. We miss having you over.”

Patton’s smile dims the smallest fraction. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t… you know. I can-”

“Hey. We get it,” Virgil says softly.

Patton nods, eyes focusing on the coffee machine slowly dripping coffee into the pot. “I haven’t had coffee in a while,” Patton says quietly. “Not since I got home that night.”

Virgil doesn’t know what to say, so he picks at his fingernails. The room goes silent until the coffee machine beeps and Patton pours two mugs full, then hands Virgil the creamer.

Virgil heads into the living room and switches on the television while Patton tidies up in the kitchen. He sits down on the too-bright, too-soft yellow sofa, and leans back, closing his eyes. The breeze blowing through the window teases Virgil’s hair and cools his face.

He pretends Logan is upstairs in his study, breeze blowing through the windows up there; it’s easier that way.

{~}

_“One tablespoon of sugar, dumbass, not a whole fucking cup!” Virgil shouted._

_“Swear jar!” Patton yelped, jerking his burnt finger from the pot full of bubbling milk and stuffing it into his mouth._

_“Roman ruined the eggnog!” Virgil argued._

_“I did not!” Roman snapped back. “I improved it.”_

_“Roman, this batch of eggnog is going to be split amongst two people. It does not need a full cup of sugar,” Logan said with a sigh. He flicked on the faucet, gently guiding his husband’s red finger under the cool water._

_“We can just add more eggs, vanilla, and milk,” Roman said with a pout._

_“The pot can’t fit anything else,” Virgil argued._

_Patton, ever the peacemaker, finally cut in again. “I have a bigger pot. We’ll use that.”_

_Roman grinned. “See! I improved it.”_

_Virgil rolled his eyes. Patton snatched up a paper towel to dry off his finger, then set to work at getting out a new pot and transferring the ingredients into it. Roman wandered off into the living room, flouncing down on the yellow couch and pulling out his phone._

_“Big help he is,” Virgil muttered sarcastically._

_“You love him,” Patton said sweetly with a grin._

_“More like… kind of tolerate, but okay.”_

_Logan laughed loudly, taking a spoon from the drawer to begin to stir the mixture. “Ah, young love. Is it not sickening to watch, Patton?”_

_“It sure is,” Patton said, standing on his tip-toes to plant a kiss on Logan’s lips. Virgil stuck his tongue out and mock-gagged while Patton giggled._

_“You guys are literally only thirty-two.”_

_“And you are twenty-two. You’re a bunch of young pups to me,” Patton said._

_“Better watch it, old man. I think the ‘young pups’ are giving you a few grey hairs,” Virgil said._

_“He is communicating a falsehood, Patton.” Patton grinned at Logan. “There are far more than a ‘few.’”_

_Patton gaped and swatted Logan’s shoulder while Virgil burst into laughter._

_“Is the eggnog done yet?” Roman whined from the living room._

_Virgil rolled his eyes. “If you’d get your ass in here and help, maybe it’d get done quicker.”_

_“That is absurd! The eggnog is already on the stove and Roman’s contributions might merely set us back at this point,” Logan said, just as Patton shouted, “Swear jar!”_

_“Damnit,” Virgil muttered._

_“Swear jar! Again!”_

_“Perhaps it was a good idea to befriend these two,” Logan said to Patton. “They will make us rich.”_

_“Are you telling me you only want us for our money?” Virgil asked._

_“Damn right.”_

_“Logan! Swear jar!”_

{~}

“I made the spare room up for you. And there’s plenty of pillows and blankets in the closet if you want more. And if that’s not enough, there’s uhm. Some in Logan’s room,” Patton says with a smile and sets down Virgil’s bags beside the full-size bed.

“Thanks, Pat. I’ll remember that.”

“Feel free to turn the TV up as loud as you want,” Patton adds. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

Patton glances over the room one last time before nodding, smiling once again, and walking out, shutting the door behind him. Virgil lays back and takes three grounding breaths.

Patton’s house is filled with signs of a man going through grief, from one corner to the next. The Christmas tree from December that Roman and Virgil came over to help set up with Logan and Patton still stands proudly in the living room, mid-June. Patton’s laundry lays in the hall, untouched, dirty clothes spilling from a plastic white bin. Dust collects on every crack and crevice in the house, even on top of Patton’s plates, bowls, and cups- and that worries Virgil most of all, because, how often does Patton even _eat_?

He and his best friend sat in front of the television and watched soap operas all afternoon until Virgil finally broke their silence and insisted upon making a box of macaroni and cheese for the two of them.

Patton’s house which once lived with loud laughter and joy is subdued and quiet. Virgil can hear his every thought, feel his every breath, and smell the sadness in each room. It’s so heavy he can barely handle it.

It’s a welcome interruption from Virgil’s thoughts when his phone begins ringing, Roman’s contact information flashing across the screen.

Virgil answers immediately.

“Hello?”

“Virgil!” Roman’s voice is the loudest thing Virgil’s heard all day and he winces, pulling the phone away from his year a few inches. “I’ve missed you, my stormy knight, and I meant to call earlier, but Jason kept making me re-do the same scene over and over again. I swear, that man has standards God couldn’t even reach.” He quiets. “How is Patton?”

Virgil hesitates. “He’s… quiet.”

“Patton? Quiet? Surely not.”

“I wouldn’t believe it either, but he’s just… so quiet. His whole damn house is quiet.” Virgil takes a shaking breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this- I miss the chaos.”

“Yeah?” Roman asks softly.

“The tree’s still up,” Virgil says. He lets a tear fall. “Logan’s ties are still on the back of the bathroom door.”

“Maybe I should come-” Roman begins. Virgil immediately cuts him off.

“No. No. I want you to finish filming. And then maybe we can see when you’ll make it down.”

“Okay.” Roman lets out a long sigh. “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m… sad,” Virgil says quietly. “It doesn’t feel right to visit Patton when Logan’s not here. Knowing Logan won’t be here at all. Ever again.” Virgil chokes and wipes the tears with his hoodie sleeve. “How are you?”

“I’m not horrible,” Roman says. “Not quite fantastic either.”

Virgil laughs. “I think it’s hard for anyone to be fantastic right now.”

“True, true.” Roman draws in a deep breath. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come down…?”

“You should wait,” Virgil says quietly. “Patton understands.”

“Okay,” Roman says. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Virgil ends the call, looking down at his lap and drawing in another deep breath. He sets aside his phone. He reaches for the remote. Looks up.

Logan is standing in the middle of the room.

Virgil’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, prepared to scream, but Logan’s eyes widen just as wide and he’s darting across the room, slapping a hand over Virgil’s mouth and pulling him to his chest before Virgil can even make a sound. He makes a desperate squeaking noise in the back of his throat and squirms ruthlessly on the bed. Logan’s grip is firm, however, and his hand remains firmly on Virgil’s mouth, other arm secure around Virgil’s squirming waist.

“Virgil. Virgil, please be quiet. I do not wish for you to awaken Patton. He already has such a horrible time sleeping.”

Despite Logan’s words, Virgil whimpers and jerks around in his grip until his body exhausts itself and his muscles, still tense, refuse to move.

“May I release you now? I do not enjoy this position.”

And really, it is quite uncomfortable. So Virgil nods the slightest bit. Hesitantly, Logan lowers his hand and releases Virgil’s waist. Immediately, Virgil scrambles away from Logan, onto the floor, and back pressed firmly against television stand across from the bed. Virgil’s breathing is ragged and erratic as he looks Logan up and down.

He looks exactly how Logan looked the night he’d died. He’s wearing his black polo and favourite striped blue tie. His glasses are slightly crooked on his nose and his jeans have the tear in the left knee from where he’d fallen on the pavement. His hands are raised and his muscles are tense against the tight material of his shirt.

If not for the bloody hole in Logan’s chest, Virgil might believe it is Logan standing in front of him, worn out from a long day of teaching college kids. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Virgil says. “Holy fucking _shit_.”

“You owe Patton seventy-five cents for that one.”

“How?” Virgil snaps.

“Well, because Patton typically charges twenty-five cents per swear word. Therefore-”

“Shut up,” Virgil hisses. “I meant, how on earth are you here? You’re dead.”

Logan nods solemnly. “Oh, yes. I am dead. I haven’t quite figured out how that part works yet.” He crosses his arms and looks down at Virgil with a frown. “I would advise that you go over your breathing exercises.”

“Shut up,” Virgil wheezes.

Logan sighs. “I shall, if it is what you truly desire.”

They sit in quiet as Virgil gets his breathing under control, the only noises being his wheezing and the sound of Patton’s TV playing a movie from his room. Finally, Virgil slowly pulls himself up and walks across the room. Logan’s eyes follow him the entire way. Virgil hesitates, sticking his hand out. Then, slowly, he rests the hand on Logan’s chest, right beside the bullet hole.

It’s solid. The material of the shirt is soft and cool. Virgil slowly drags his hand closer to the hole. His fingers touch the edges and Virgil’s skin crawls as he realises the edges are wet and sticky. Pulling his hands away, he sees that his fingertips have blood on them.

Virgil whimpers softly and drags his fingers over his pant leg until his fingers come back flushed, but no longer coated in blood. Logan continues watching, eyebrows furrowed.

“Virgil-” he tries.

Virgil snatches up his phone and before Logan can react, he snaps a picture of Logan in front of the bed and sends it to Roman. Logan’s talking but Virgil doesn’t even register what Logan’s saying. He waits and waits until there’s a reply.

 **Hottest Dumbass (10:10 PM):** VIRGIL TWHAT THE FCKU????

Virgil’s heart stops. He throws his phone on the bed. Logan’s talking again, begging Virgil to listen, but Virgil ignores him. Roman sees it too- he has to. Or maybe this all is a horrible dream and Virgil will wake up at any moment.

“I can’t-I-” Dizzily, Virgil walks to the bedroom door. Logan watches him worriedly. “I can’t do this tonight.” He yanks open the bedroom door. Logan doesn’t follow him, even when he shuts the door and scrambles down the stairs, careful not to make them creak.

Virgil, hands trembling, reaches the bottom of the stairs. He stars at the swear jar, sitting on the counter, half-full. In a haze, he drops seventy-five cents from his wallet that sits out on the kitchen table in the swear jar. Then he collapses on the yellow couch and falls asleep to the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

{~}

_“I wanna go to the movies,” Patton said._

_Logan lowered the newspaper. “Patton, it is seven thirty.”_

_“Aw, Lo, don’t be a bore,” Roman drawled with a smirk. “We should all see something together.”_

_Virgil rolled his eyes. “Dude. We have work tomorrow. It’s snowing outside.”_

_“Aw, but c’mon! It’d be fun, kiddo,” Patton said._

_Virgil huffed out a fond laugh. “Ask your husband, not me.”_

_“Logan. Honey. Light of my life-”_

_“Patton. There is no need to flatter me. We can go. Just let me grab my wallet.” Logan rose to go to the living room but there was a loud **bang!** that sounded from outside. _

_“What was that?” Virgil asked, voice trembling._

_“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Roman said, but he didn’t sound so sure of himself._

_“I can go check if it will provide you with any comfort,” Logan said._

_“Be careful, honey,” Patton said._

_Logan nodded, then walked outside. There was quiet. The three looked at each other, different expressions of nervousness and wariness on their faces. Suddenly, another **bang!** echoed from outside. _

_Logan didn’t return inside._

{~}

Virgil awakens with a start to the sound of Patton’s doorbell ringing. Blearily, he sits up, neck cramped from sleeping with his face turned into the corner of the couch. As he places a tired hand against the back of his aching neck, Patton, still in his Snoopy pyjamas, scurries across the living room to answer the door.

“Roman!” Patton says, voice laced with surprise. Virgil jerks up and peers to the door, where Roman stands in the doorway, duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. “Virge didn’t tell me you were coming this soon, kiddo!”

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Virgil says quickly as he walks toward the door. He gives Roman a look and signs, “ _We’ll talk later. Keep your mouth shut,_ ” behind Patton’s back before he can get a word in.

Roman slowly nods and smiles brightly. “I hope you don’t mind that, Padre!”

“Oh… I don’t! Not at all. Come in. I’ll make everyone coffee.”

Roman smiles again and steps into the house as Patton walks off to start the coffee pot, leaving the two in the front room staring at each other. Roman looks exhausted, arms trembling at his sides.

“Please tell me you didn’t drive eight fucking hours straight from your hotel,” Virgil hisses quietly.

“I drove them quite gay, I’ll have you know,” Roman hisses back.

Virgil glares at him murderously. “You think that’s funny?”

“I do, yes!”

“Are you two fighting in there?” Patton calls.

Roman plasters on a fake smile. “No, darling! We’re just discussing a few things.”

“Well, hurry up! I wanna make you guys some pancakes and I’ll need help.”

“Will do!” Roman calls. His smile drops and so does his voice. “What was that picture last night? You wouldn’t answer any of my texts or calls and I- I didn’t know what the hell to think.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Virgil says. “I…”

“What are you two _doing_?” Patton asks, hands on his hips.

Roman and Virgil jump, turning to Patton. Roman recovers quickly. “Catching up,” he says cheerfully. “Virgil’s gonna help me get my stuff upstairs and then we can help you.”

Patton nods slowly. “Okay. Make it quick though! Coffee’s almost done.”

“Okay.” Roman begins heading through the living room towards the stairs. After a few seconds, Virgil follows him. The two reach the door to the spare bedroom together, door still closed.

“Roman-” Virgil tries, prepared to at least warn him, but Roman is already swinging open the door. Roman’s duffel drops from his hands and his hands move to his mouth, eyes wide.

“Shut the door,” Logan says from the bed, flipping through Virgil’s Edgar Allen Poe collection, not even looking up. “If you decide to scream, Roman, I would rather Patton not hear it.”

Roman swallows. “The doors aren’t soundproof, Specs,” he chokes out.

Logan chuckles and looks up, setting aside the book. “Ah, of course. However, I would still prefer you shut the door. I need to speak with the two of you.”

The two step inside the room. Roman is trembling like a leaf, but he still shuts the door, dragging his duffel bag in the room and setting it aside. The three stare at each other for a long and uncomfortable moment, until Roman bursts out, “I’m sorry.”

Logan recoils, eyebrows furrowing. “Pardon?”

Roman steps forward. “Are you haunting us? Are you mad? I tried to stop the bleeding and I- I called 911 as fast as I could, but none of us knew what to do- and I’ll take the blame, you just can’t put the blame on Patton or- or Virgil-”

“I am going to stop you before any other ridiculous statements such as that come from your mouth,” Logan says standing up. Roman flinches. Virgil can’t take his eyes off the bullet hole in Logan’s chest. “No, I am not haunting anyone, nor am I angry. I merely… have things to discuss.” His eyes turn to Virgil. Virgil tries to tear his own away from Logan’s chest.

“We will have to discuss matters later, as Patton is waiting for the two you downstairs. You might want to hurry. He gets quite lonely easily.” There’s something pained in Logan’s eyes as he looks at Virgil.

Virgil finally nods. “We’ll be back,” he says softly.

Logan lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

{~}

_“He’s not breathing!” Roman yelped. Virgil watched with wide eyes as Roman pressed his scarf into the bleeding bullet wound on Logan’s chest._

_“Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Virgil shouted, not sure who he was talking to._

_Patton crouched over Logan’s body, gripping his hand and sobbing loudly. “Logan, baby, wake up. C’mon. C’mon, baby, my love. C’mon.”_

_Patton cried harder. Virgil watched the moment Roman slipped into a different reality, desperately feeling at Logan’s neck for a pulse, and then switching the scarf for his jacket. Roman shivered in the cold, pressing down on the wound, yelling at Logan to stay alive. Patton sobbed loudly, still begging._

_Virgil walked down to the end of the driveway, entire body trembling. A gun laid in the grass, beginning to become buried under the rapidly-falling snow. Virgil felt sick. Some distant, logical thought was telling him to move, to go see if he could help Logan in any way._

_Instead, he fell to his knees and began to cry._

{~}

“You want another pancake, Roman?”

“No thank you, Patton,” Roman says softly, pushing aside his plate. His hands are shaking and Patton notices, eyes dimming the smallest amount.

“How about some milk, kiddo?”

Roman nods and Patton rises to grab the gallon from the fridge. Virgil pokes tiredly at his soggy third of a pancake and meets Roman’s eyes. The two had attempted a normal breakfast with Patton but had found it quite difficult to do with the knowledge that their dead best friend was upstairs waiting for them.

Patton returns to the table, frowning at them. “Are you sure you two aren’t having a fight?” He sets the milk down in the middle and sits down. “Logan and I fought sometimes. But we’d never go to bed angry- that was our rule.”

“We’re not fighting,” Virgil assures. “Promise.”

Patton seems to relax at that. “Good. Fighting is… never really worth it. You never know what can happen.”

All of them are uncomfortably familiar with how true it is and they all look away from each other, caught up in their own thoughts. Finally, Patton looks up and smiles at Roman.

“How’s the filming going?”

“Decent. My director’s a little hard to deal with, but it’s almost finished, so that’s good.”

Patton smiles. “I’m proud of you for getting such a big role!” He carefully stabs a piece of his pancake and swirls it in a pile of syrup. “Logan would be too.”

Roman snorts. “He’d say my ego was bigger than the role I’d landed or something like that.”

“He would,” Patton says with a giggle. “You and him were always bickering about something.”

“It was infuriating,” Virgil says.

“Infuriating. But I’d give anything to have that back,” Patton says. His eyes fill with tears and he quickly stands up and pushes his chair in. “I’m sorry, guys. I need to go lay down.”

“Of course,” Roman says. “We’ll clean up.”

“You don’t have to-”

“We know,” Virgil says softly. “If you need anything…”

“Let us know,” Roman finishes.

Patton nods and runs off. Virgil winces when he hears a small sob escape before Patton makes it all the way upstairs.

“Should we go comfort him?” Roman asks quietly.

“Let him have some space,” Virgil says. “Let’s just finish cleaning up.”

The two gather the plates and mugs up and wash them. Then they put them away. Roman dumps out the dying flowers and writes himself a note to buy new ones. Virgil scrubs the table, then cleans the counters. Then they move into the fridge and organize it. By the time the kitchen looks brand new and completely unlived in, Virgil finally sighs and admits to himself that he’s stalling.

“We should… probably go upstairs.”

“To see Patton?” Roman asks weakly. Virgil levels him with a look. Roman shrugs. “Worth a try.”

Virgil smiles and wraps his arms around Roman’s shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You tried, you failed. Let’s go upstairs.”

“C’mon,” Roman says, voice dwelling into something like a whine. “We can kiss some more?”

“After we talk to…” Virgil trails off and swallows. “After we talk to Logan.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Virgil laughs. “C’mon, Princey.”

Roman groans but they trudge up the stairs anyway, trying to prepare themselves for whatever is to come.

{~}

**Logan Sanders.**

**Time of Death: 8:45 PM.**

{~}

“I appreciate that you two came back,” Logan says as the two file in, shutting the door and locking it behind them. He sets Virgil’s book down on the bed. “I never thought I would ever say such a thing, but reading grows dull after a while when there is a multitude of other issues on your mind.”

“Reading is always dull,” Roman says.

“For your pea-brain, perhaps.”

“Rude,” Roman gasps, splaying a hand over his heart. Logan rolls his eyes.

“I see nothing has changed,” Logan says. “Sit down. I do not like being the only one sitting.”

Virgil grabs his suitcase and situates himself down on it. Roman sits on the ground.

“I meant… Well. Never mind,” Logan says with a sigh. “I suppose, if I were in either of your shoes, I too would have my cautions and concerns. However, I assure you. I will not hurt you.”

“And yet you've already torn my dignity to shreds,” Roman says.

“Funny. I was not aware you had any.”

Virgil snickers. “All right, you two.” He turns to Logan. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” Logan says. “And I am afraid that I cannot explain it all. But I shall explain as much as I can and answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Are you real?” Roman blurts.

“I’m real. I don’t know the implications of that, but I… I have a physical form. Thoughts. Breath. I believe I am real.”

“So you’re not a ghost?” Virgil asks.

“Perhaps I am. However, physically, I am not what one would typically consider a ghost. I have a solid and very physical form. But I do not… have a heartbeat.”

Roman frowns and Virgil nods slowly, as if he understands (he doesn’t), then asks, “What do you remember?”

Logan smiles wryly. “I went outside to see what was going on the last night we all were together. A man was walking down the sidewalk by our driveway. He spotted me and panicked. Then he shot me.” Logan grimaces and his hand brushes the wound, still in its gory place on his chest. “I remember being in pain and hearing Patton run outside. I was worried that the man would hurt him, so I tried to warn Patton. Then, I sort of… drifted off.”

“Do you remember the ambulance ride?” Roman asks.

Logan shakes his head. “No.”

“Do you remember when Virgil and I came outside?”

Logan shakes his head again. “No.” His eyes gentle when he looks to Roman. “I know you tried to stop the bleeding. I remember bits and pieces of that.”

“I tried really hard,” Roman says. “But it just kept bleeding. And then you stopped breathing…” Virgil leans over and laces his fingers in Roman’s, gently brushing his thumb over his knuckles as Roman takes a deep breath. “It was terrifying.”

“Traumatizing, no doubt,” Logan says lowly. “I do hope you sought out counselling of some form.”

Roman shrugs. “Virgil and I both did after a while. But it was still difficult for me to admit I needed it.”

They’re quiet, Virgil vividly remembering the night Roman finally broke down, sobbing, and telling Virgil he couldn’t cope on his own. That he needed help. They’d made an appointment the next day.

“Do you remember anything else?” Virgil asks.

“Nothing here,” Logan admits. “After a while, I felt like I completely blacked out. Then I woke up in a bedroom, lying on a bed. A man named Thomas was in the room with me. He told me that I was dead.”

“That must have been pretty weird,” Roman says. “Being told you’re dead.”

“It was. And he explained everything to me- how I’d lost too much blood, where I’d died, and when.” Logan takes a deep breath. “He told me that, due to my life ending at such a young age-”

“Thirty-two is young?” Roman asks.

Virgil smacks him.

Logan laughs and continues, “and that I had lived a satisfactory life, I was permitted to wish for one thing and Thomas would grant it for me.”

“And what did you wish for?” Virgil asks, feeling as if he already knew the answer.

Logan’s eyes look far away. “To say goodbye to Patton. Assure him that all will be well and that we will be together again. That he needn’t lose hope nor heart.” Logan bites his lip and adjusts his glasses with a shaking hand. “After I made my request, I woke up in here. And yet… Patton couldn’t see me. I attempted on multiple occasions to make myself known to him. However, he never noticed me.”

“But how did we see you?” Roman asks.

Logan sighs. “I don’t… I don’t know. Thomas didn’t give me much instruction.”

“Shady dude,” Roman says.

“He was incredibly kind. But yes, shady indeed.”

“So you’ve holed yourself up in here since… since the night you died?” Virgil asks.

Logan shrugs. “I do not know how much time has passed, to be honest. However, it has felt like quite a while. Honestly, I would have expected you two to come back here sooner.”

Virgil flinches. “Yeah… we kind of. Drifted apart a little bit after you died. Or Patton did. He stopped calling. Stopped asking us to hang out. Then Roman had to travel for his role… And I finally called Patton to see if I could stay for a bit. He said yes.”

“He is isolating himself,” Logan says. “It is not healthy at all. He worries me. He does not eat often enough and he stays in bed for most of the day. He cries. I sit beside him but he doesn’t know I’m there.” Logan swallows and Virgil wonders if it’s his imagination or if Logan is tearing up. “Or perhaps he does but cannot believe that I am here. He… He just worries me.”

“He worries us too,” Virgil says quietly. “I feel bad for letting us go so long without seeing him.”

“I am sure he forgives you,” Logan says.

“I’m sure he does too,” Virgil says, “and that makes me feel worse.”

“So… what do we do now?” Roman asks quietly. “Are you sure you’ve tried everything to get Patton to see you?”

“Everything I can think of. I have attempted to touch him but it is like there is an invisible shield between us that stops me every time. I stand in front of him and he cannot see me. I move his objects around and leave him notes but he never notices the objects and the notes always vanish.”

“Maybe you needed to see me before you could reveal yourself to him,” Roman says. “It makes sense, seeing as I am your favourite human being.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Could you put aside your inflamed ego for one moment, Roman?”

“That’s like asking a dog to not bark!”

“There are plenty of dogs which are trained to not bark.”

“Shhh,” Roman says.

“Because I’m right?”

“Shhhh!”

Virgil rolls his own eyes and leans back. “Maybe if Roman and I are both there with you… maybe then Patton will see you.”

“Perhaps,” Logan muses softly. “It would not hurt to try, I suppose.”

The three stand and glance at each other. Roman winces when his eyes land on Logan’s chest once again. “Are you not able to put on a jacket?” he asks.

Logan looks down at his chest and sighs. “I wish. But when I put one on, it just puts a hole through the jacket. Believe me, I would like to not have to look at this just as much as you do.”

Roman nods. The three then make their way out of the bedroom and into Patton’s room. Patton jerks up from his spot on his bed. His eyes widen and then he schools his expression into a small smile.

“Did you guys need anything?” he asks.

“Patton,” Logan says. Patton’s eyes flicker to Logan then immediately back to Virgil expectantly.

“Patton…” Virgil trails off. “How many people do you see right now?” he asks.

“Are you teasing me?” Patton asks. “Because that’s not nice.”

“We’re not teasing,” Roman says, sounding more solemn than ever.

Patton’s hands are shaking as he stands up. “Three,” he says, voice trembling.

“You see him?” Virgil asks softly.

“Do _you_?” Patton asks.

“Of course,” Virgil says.

“I thought… thought…” Patton blinks. “I thought. I thought he was a hallucination.”

“I’m not,” Logan says. Patton’s eyes linger over Logan’s form. He eyes the bullet hole with something like sadness and anger.

He reaches his hand out and Logan reaches his own out. They grasp together and Patton pulls the intertwined fingers to his chest.

“If this is a hallucination, it’s the best one I’ve ever had,” Patton chokes out.

Virgil feels a presence behind him and jerks around to see a guy standing behind him, wings bright and beautiful behind his back. His sandy locks are parted to the right and his eyes are the softest brown Virgil has ever seen.

“It’s 100% real, Patton. Underworld Committee guaranteed,” the guy says with a smile. He walks over and casually sits down on Patton’s bed as though he belongs there. Patton doesn’t notice, too focused on staring into Logan’s eyes.

“Do you hear that, Patton?” Logan whispers, voice barely there. “Underworld Committee guaranteed.”

Patton bursts into tears. “God, I miss you so much.”

Logan smiles shakily, tears streaking his cheeks. “I miss you too, my dear, and I shall continue to do so until the day we meet again.”

Patton sobs harder, forehead dropping to Logan’s chest. Logan breathes deeply, stroking the back of Patton’s head rhythmically.

“Are you here to stay?”

“No, my love. That’s… that’s Thomas. I have a feeling he’s here to take me back.”

Patton sniffles and Logan cups Patton’s cheek.  “I wish you could stay,” he chokes out.

“I do as well,” Logan says. He lifts Patton up by his jaw. “But at least, with this, we get a proper goodbye.”

“Not goodbye,” Patton says. “See you soon.”

Logan smiles fondly. “Of course. However, I would prefer you do not make it soon. If you do not live past fifty, I will personally raise you from the dead so that I may kill you myself.”

Patton laughs and Logan swipes Patton’s tears away tenderly. “I love you so much, Logan.”

“I love you too,” Logan says.

The two lean into each other, lips meeting passionately. Virgil looks away to give them privacy. He hears Patton sob then Logan hushing him softly again. Then, he feels gentle hands landing on his shoulders. Looking up, he sees Logan standing in front of him with a small smile on his face.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil manages a small nod, face screwing up into something pained until he lets out a small cry, pressing a hand to his mouth, humiliated.

“It is all right. It is all right to cry, Virgil,” Logan says, voice soothing. Virgil, any other time, would restrain himself. But at this moment, he cannot find a reason to do so. He falls forward into Logan, letting his friend wrap his arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tightly.

“I love you, L,” Virgil chokes out. “You’re a great friend.”

“As are you. Do not forget that.”

Logan draws away and walks over to Roman who’s trembling terribly.

“I’m sorry,” Roman chokes out. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Always the hero. I would have likely died, regardless of who held that scarf to my chest. Do not place that blame on yourself.”

“I…” Roman hesitates. “I love ya, Calculator Watch.”

Logan snorts. “And I love you too.” They embrace and when they pull away, Virgil is relieved to see Roman is trembling far less than before. Roman walks over to Virgil, linking their hands together tightly.

Logan and Patton kiss one more time and embrace tightly, Patton sobbing softly into Logan’s shoulder.

“Take care of each other,” Logan says. “Please?”

“We will,” Patton says fiercely. “Won’t we?” Virgil and Roman nod.

Logan smiles. “I know you will.”

Thomas rises and smiles at the four. “You all are very brave.”

“Thank you,” Patton says. He wipes his eyes. “Take care of him? Please?”

Thomas’s smile brightens. “Of course. He’ll be just fine.”

Patton gasps out another small sob and Logan reaches over and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me say goodbye,” Patton says, looking at Thomas. “It means so much to me.”

Thomas nods. “No need to thank me.” He sighs, looking down at his watch. “We’ve got a deadline to meet, I’m afraid.”

Patton nods in understanding and lurches forward, wrapping Logan in one last tight hug. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Logan kisses his hair, his form flickering. “I love you too. Goodbye, my love.”

Then, in a shower of silver and blue mist, the two slowly fade, Patton’s hand reaching out to just barely brush Logan’s awaiting hand as they go.

Patton burst into tears, a small smile still on his face. “I miss him already,” he whispers.

“We’ll see him again,” Roman assures quietly. He walks over and squeezes Patton’s hand tightly. Patton smiles at Roman. Virgil slowly walks forward, heart wedged in his chest.

“Let’s never wait months to see each other again,” Virgil says. “This is the kind of shit that happens when we do.”

Patton lets out a loud laugh and Roman grins, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, grasping his hand, and gently running his thumb over Virgil’s wedding band.

 _Maybe_ , Virgil thinks to himself, _just maybe- we’re gonna be okay._

“Let’s get out of this fucking room, hm? It’s a beautiful day. We should enjoy it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Patton says. “Oh, and Virgil?”

“Hm?”

“Swear jar.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback?


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